The One Week at the End of March
by Reetinkerbell
Summary: Veela Draco enters into a state of breeding frenzy one week each Spring. DracoxHermione, written for dramionelove.


**Title:** The One Week at the End of March  
**Fandom:** Harry Potter  
**Pairing:** Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger.  
**Summary:** Veela Draco enters into a state of breeding frenzy one week each Spring.  
**Rating: **R  
**Word Count:** 3 010  
**Spoilers: **AU.  
**Warnings:** The characters have lots and lots of sex, but nothing you get to see much of (sorry!). Would if I could.  
**Author's Note:** Thanks to my beta **shag_me_draco**.  
**Distribution:** Link only **please.  
****Written:** August 2013 – For **#29** at the **dramionelove's** (at LiveJournal) **Spring-Summer Fest**. Prompt at the end.**  
**

**The One Week at the End of March** (1/1)

Draco woke with a strangled gasp. For a moment, all his senses were alert and he looked about the room with wild eyes – not really seeing anything with his eyes, but soon enough his senses told him no danger lurked in the room.

Beside him, Hermione slept peacefully, her face turned away from him – usually they slept with Draco curled around her back protectively (or possessively, as Hermione often accused when she was in a bad mood and felt crowded by him and his near constant need to touch her) and she had not been disturbed by his sudden movements.

He curled himself back around her, gratified at Hermione's sigh of contentment as he wrapped his arms around her bare body and caressed his lips over the nape of her neck.  
Now that the sudden fright of something happening to his mate had calmed, Draco realised what it was that had woken him – he should've expected it really, having gone through it before.

It was the first day of Spring.

For most people, this merely meant generally warmer weather (or lots of rain) – but for Draco, and by extension of being his mate, Hermione, Spring meant that his body was primed for procreation.

His already heightened senses were amplified, his desire for mating greater and his need to fill his beautiful mate with offspring intense.

Hermione hated Spring. At only twenty-two, neither were truly ready to have a child. Over the years they had been together since Draco came into his Veela inheritance, they had used a variety of protection spells and potions to prevent pregnancy, and more often than not, Hermione had to placate Draco's need during what she'd termed his mating frenzy with blow jobs if she was too tired or the risk of a pregnancy was too great.

Luckily, Draco's mating frenzy only lasted one week out of the year (always coinciding with Hermione's most fertile time of the month) but during the week itself, it felt as if would never end.

One year, they had even tried to be apart for the duration – but Draco had problems being away from Hermione for any real length of time even on the best of days (his extended bachelor party followed by the twenty-four hours before their wedding being the longest) and it had turned out to be impossible for him when his need for her was even greater than usually (as Mrs Weasley's kitchen wall could attest to).

Even now, his need poked against Hermione's hip, and though certainly not unusual for him to desire his mate always (and especially in the mornings and evenings when they were in bed together) the feelings behind it were. One time would not be enough.

Hermione knew, of course, of his feelings during this time of the year – but she did not know the extent, despite her research and despite all her inquisitive questions.

It frightened him, how he felt – what he thought, solely focused on impregnating his mate, as if she was nothing more than a breeding mare, when in truth she was everything – and he didn't want her to know.

In truth, Draco was ashamed. He had always prided himself on being a pureblood, and when he found out he wasn't fully – was in fact part Veela, the shock of it had only been acceptable because he had found his mate, and they were happy together. But to know that a part of him was so much other that he almost felt like an animal, wanting nothing more than to shag, that he did not want to admit, even to himself and usually he could ignore it and pretend that the other part of him didn't exist.

Even so, the feelings and thoughts were there and Draco was a slave to them. In short time, he had Hermione awake and on her back, sleepily accepting his amorous attentions.

If she had been more awake, she probably would've realised the purpose of his lovemaking (she always said his eyes were different; much darker and much more intense and he always seemed to come with a greater purpose) but as it were, she allowed him to move over and into her without complaint or pause, instead encouraging him on as her own need built.

Hermione came with a sigh of his name; Draco clenched his teeth hard to prevent his shout.

Once done, Hermione kissed him gently before rolling over to sleep again, merely five minutes after he'd first woken her.

Draco curled against her back, still hard, and tried to feel guilty at what he'd done and how it may affect their future and their relationship.

But knowing it may have produced a child, he couldn't find it in himself.

Instead, he hoped.

– – –

When morning arrived, Hermione woke to find Draco staring at her adoringly. The fresh scent of coffee by the side of the bed registered, and Hermione fleetingly wondered if Draco had fetched them breakfast from the kitchen or if one of the still highly devoted house-elves had brought it up (she guessed the latter, even though they seemed to be frightened of her and what they thought was her displeasure with them).

When Draco brushed his nose against hers, over her chin and down her neck, Hermione lost her train of thought and instead stretched lazily in his arms. A wet tongue flicked against one of her nipples, which hardened instantly.

Her body was overly sensitive to him, a fact which Draco had taken a lot of pleasure from (both physically and emotionally).

Draco being the first and only lover Hermione had ever had, and a lack of female friends to share intimate conversations with had made Hermione think that was entirely normal for couples in love. It wasn't until she'd had a frank, and highly embarrassing, conversation with Ginny after she broke up with Harry and discovered other men (who had made her feel things Harry never had, though she had been desperately in love with him), that she realised it may have had more to do with Draco being a Veela than her love for him.

It had not been at the start of their relationship, but luckily, that realisation had made Hermione research the topic further (before, although they had certainly engaged in a lot of sexual acts since the first time, she had still felt as a blushing 18-year-old virgin) and only two weeks later, Draco entered his first week of breeding frenzy.

Without the forewarning through Hermione's research, they would've had at least one child by now. Not that the warning had prepared either for the rather intense need (both had assumed they'd be able to go about their lives much the same, only with more sex), but at least they had managed to avoid the consequences before they were ready.

A bird twittered outside the window, as if to remind Hermione of what she already knew, already could tell just from the way Draco's eyes shone.

It was Spring.

So attuned was her body to his, that although they had made love for what had felt like hours after they returned from dinner with friends, her body was already begging for more of him.  
Draco kissed her, and Hermione arched into him; he took it as a signal that she was ready, and the coffee was forgotten.

– – –

"Good morning," Draco whispered against her chest two hours later.

Hermione dragged a hand through his hair, scratching her fingers against his scalp the way he liked it. "Good morning," she returned with a smile he couldn't see, but heard.

They laid like that for several moments, catching their breath and enjoying the quiet of being pressed against each other.

"I'm hungry," Draco said finally, rising up to look at their abandoned breakfast tray with dismay. Naked, he left the room; after throwing a look over at Hermione, still in bed, to make sure she was ogling him the way he would her and Hermione stretched on the bed as she waited for him to return.

It didn't take long for him to do so, carrying another tray (the house-elves must've been prepared, which was not something Hermione wanted to think about) and they ate together in bed.

It was a good morning, followed by a good and mostly lazy day in bed.

– – –

The next day was a Monday. Hermione dragged herself out of bed when the alarm rang, ignoring Draco as he tried to drag her back into his arms.

"Don't go," he complained, watching her prepare for her shower.

She could almost hear the pout in his words.

"I promised Ginny," Hermione replied. "I'm meeting them at noon and I'm late as it is." Although she didn't say it, the fact that her lateness was his fault was clearly implied (it usually was his fault).

Draco threw away the covers and followed her into the shower, adamant that if he was to lose her for a few hours to the outside world, at least he should be allowed to help her get ready.

Hermione was very late meeting Ginny and Luna, but neither minded. Ginny even said that she hadn't realised it was the first day of Spring for Draco, as it varied slightly from year to year; had she done so, she never would've insisted Hermione join them. But Draco had promised to try being less possessive, and this was a test they both needed.

– – –

"I think if we had a baby, I wouldn't continue to feel this way."

The words came from Draco a few hours later over dinner. Hermione paused, staring at him over her half-raised fork of potato – the sauce she'd dipped it in slid slowly off the potato piece, but neither noticed.

"We agreed-" she started, putting the cutlery and the uneaten potato back onto her plate (the sauce had just been about to drop onto her shirt before she moved it).

"Maybe I don't want to agree anymore," Draco said, looking down as he played with his own fork. "Maybe I'm ready."

Hermione hesitated. "Maybe we should have this conversation when you're not so—" she seemed at a loss for what to say, knowing how sensitive he could be at this time of year, "interested in having children," she finally settled on.

Draco frowned. "That's not why."

"You can't know that until you're no longer in the breeding frenzy, you know that. And there's nothing that says that you won't still feel this way every year, regardless of how many children we have."

He sighed. Hermione sighed in returned.

They finished their meal in silence.

Feeling bad, and knowing that he was not easy to reason with when he was so focused on the goal of impregnating her, when they had finished, Hermione walked around the table and plopped herself down in his lap, one leg on either side of his.

He was already hard, and his hands wasted no time in sliding in under her skirt.

The empty plates were pushed to the side, his goblet was turned over and a piece of cutlery felt to the floor with a smatter. Neither cared, too wrapped up in each other and their desperate lovemaking.

– – –

Morning dawned and Hermione woke to a face full of flowers.

"It's all your favourites," Draco insisted as she groggily blinked awake and took in the sight; no wonder she'd dreamed she'd been suffocating – it looked as if the entirety of their hothouse (the pride and joy of Narcissa Malfoy, whose wrath at having her flowers stolen in the night would probably only be mollified at the arrival of a grandchild as a direct result of the theft) had been transferred to their bedroom.

"Uh, thanks?" she said, faintly hoping she was still dreaming, as she accepted the flowers he held out towards her.

The bouquet did consist of her favourite flowers and Hermione was about to say so, when Draco pressed himself against her intently and nuzzled his nose against her neck. Smiling, Hermione placed the flowers beside her and opened her arms to him.

Although Draco was certainly far more desperate and intense when he was at his prime, this morning he was as gentle and loving as always. Hermione knew he held back, for her sake, and not only did that make her love him even more, it made her desire for him deepen.

Turning them over, Hermione instigated the second round almost immediately, much to Draco's delight.

Only later did she realise that he thought it'd been because of the flowers, when he filled the library (her second favourite place in the house) and the kitchen (her third) as well, all to please her and, in his own currently addled mind, make her want a baby too.

– – –

"I'm so glad you changed your mind," he said later that night as they laid in bed all warm and snugly. The weather had been particularly pleasant that day, and the window remained open to allow the fresh scent of spring to enter the room, even though the air had cooled for the night – partly to keep the rather intense scent of the various flowers from making their heads hurt.

"About what?" she asked distractedly, caressing his back as he nuzzled against her (his particularly favourite activity after sex, excepting even more sex). She was warm, sated and happy, and close to falling asleep.

"About having a baby," Draco said, as if it was obvious.

Hermione blinked. Immediately, all thought of sleep left her. "Draco," she said, hesitatingly. "I haven't changed my mind."

He was about to protest, but she interrupted him before he could speak.

"Remember, we agreed to wait to talk about it until next week, when you're more yourself and you know what you truly want."

Draco frowned and grumbled into her shoulder, but said nothing more, just held her tightly.

Hermione turned onto her stomach, away from him; though she had had a long and physically active day, she was unable to sleep.

Draco, wrapped around her, remained awake even longer than she, staring out the open window as the sky lightened again with a new day.

– – –

Three weeks later, after Draco's breeding frenzy had finally come to end for another year, Hermione sat across from her husband and mate at the breakfast table.

He was uncommonly quiet, and had been for several days.

Hermione too was quiet, but hers came from nerves; she didn't know what was bothering Draco – though she had asked. Any other male and she would've thought he was breaking it off with her, but of course Draco never would (a thought that both comforted her and frightened her sometimes).

"Draco," she said finally, once they had finished (she'd barely touched her breakfast and he'd eaten without really registering what it was he ate).

He looked up at her and attempted a smile.

"I was wondering if you, I mean we haven't talked about it."

There was no need for Hermione to elaborate further; although they hadn't spoken of Draco's expressed desire to have children after the breeding frenzy had ended, it was also the only thing they hadn't talked about.

Draco said nothing, but nodded.

"So you don't still want children? It was just the frenzy?" Hermione asked, her voice uncommonly uncertain. Not even when he'd first approached her and told her, just shy of their graduation, that he was a Veela and that she was his mate, had she been this uncertain of where they stood – and at the time, she'd thought it a very odd and unnecessary joke.

He sighed deeply, and as he did so, Hermione realised the reason for his uncharacteristically silence of late; he'd been thinking about it.

"I don't know," he said, but Hermione thought it sounded like a lie. "But it doesn't matter, because you're not ready, and I can wait. Don't worry, I can wait."

"So you do want children?" she asked searchingly after a moment; his words had certainly implied it, but she wanted honest and straight answers.

"Yes." Draco looked at her. "Don't you?"

"Yes," Hermione agreed with a nod. "Of course."

A pregnant pause. And then, "Right now?"

It didn't seem to matter who'd asked the question, because neither knew how they were to answer it – an answer in either direction could cause havoc to their relationship (or be a complete lie).

"Draco?" Hermione played with her unused napkin.

"Yes, my love?"

"I think perhaps we weren't quite as careful this time as we should've been."

Draco blinked. "I'm sorry what?" suddenly, he seemed much more animated, his eyes wide and his body still as he leaned forward, but not yet ready to react.

She smiled shyly and looked at him; her husband, her mate, the boy she'd known since they were eleven and he'd been kind of a pain (but then, so had she been, just a different kind of pain).

"I'm pregnant."

The joy on his face as he came around the table to embrace her washed away all the doubts Hermione had been harbouring. Though they were still young, and she wasn't yet sure if she was ready to be somebody's mother, the fact that she would be caused her nothing but happiness.

The only wildcard had been Draco; though the Veela in him would be more than happy in a possessive kind of a way that his mate bore him a child, it was the man who would raise that baby, and care for it – and it was he who'd often said he wasn't ready, just as she. And when Draco didn't bring the subject up again following his latest frenzy, Hermione had assumed that was the reason – when he'd come to his senses, he'd changed his mind, and hadn't brought it up because he thought she didn't want children now either.

They kissed happily.

– – –

Neither said anything about it, but the following year when Spring came, and Draco's frenzy didn't, they looked at each other over the head of their sleeping infant son and smiled.

**The End.**

**Prompt:**  
#29 - Veela love in the springtime.


End file.
